Isiaka Tijani, Thank You

As I prepared for today’s service, I received a call. Unintentionally, I rejected it before realizing who was calling. The call came again—it was Isiaka. He had expected to see me yesterday at the reunion’s gala and had tried to reach me earlier without success. It’s heartwarming when someone notices your absence and cares enough to check in. Thank you, Isiaka, my friend.

This reminds me of Tosin’s longing to reconnect with Femi back in 2007. Upon returning to Nigeria, Tosin called me, and we arranged to meet at his residence on Abebi Close. He offered me biscuits and a pack of juice. As someone unaccustomed to such hospitality, I was tempted to finish the juice, jokingly thinking it might have contributed to his height, as my own “development fees” seemed unpaid, keeping me closer to the ground.

During our conversation, Tosin was pleasantly surprised to learn that I knew of a Nigerian player in the German Bundesliga. He spoke fondly of Femi, who had kept in touch with him even while in Ukraine. Among our circle, Femi was likely the only one who maintained communication during those challenging times. I never told Tosin that I had written a letter to Femi but never sent it. In hindsight, I realize how lonely it might have been for Femi in that cold, distant part of the world. A letter from a friend could have been a source of warmth and connection.

Sadly, I had to share the heartbreaking news with Tosin: Femi, our contemporary, had passed away. The reunion Tosin had hoped for never happened.

Femi’s memory reminds me of his kindness during my Class Four days. While I skipped classes to fend for myself, he noticed my absence and voiced his concern. Not everyone is attentive to the struggles of others, but Femi was different.

Isiaka is another old friend with whom I share a history—and geography. We grew up on the same street in Ojota. After reconnecting through a platform, Isiaka reached out to rekindle our friendship, a gesture that resonates deeply with me. It’s inspiring to see others renewing their bonds as well.

Olaoluwa captured the emotions of reconnecting with familiar faces at the reunion. His excitement was palpable as he recounted meeting Toyin Onilogbo, who recognized and greeted him warmly. Though I didn’t initially recall Kunle Ogunfadebo, it was touching that he remembered me. His commentary on the association and its welfare painted a picture of someone with the conviction and presence of a preacher—an impression of authority and boldness.

At the end of the 1983/84 session, there were 256 students in our class, according to my report sheet. By Class Five, our numbers had dwindled. Life’s various challenges reduced our ranks, and we may never fully grasp the struggles of those we lost along the way. For instance, I only learned of the passing of our Mathematics guru, Aremu Saheed, last Friday.

As we grow older, our health and circumstances inevitably change. Life becomes richer when rooted in love. God is love, and we are called to embody that love in how we treat our neighbors. Sometimes, a simple phone call can make a world of difference. It keeps relationships alive and reminds us of the importance of kindness. We shouldn’t wait for loss to prompt us into action. A simple “hello” can be a meaningful gesture, a small drop of kindness in an ever-changing world.

Thank you, Isiaka, for reminding me of the value of connection and friendship.

Uwem Sampson